


house of gold.

by peerieweirdo



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peerieweirdo/pseuds/peerieweirdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>carmilla realises that things can be permanent.<br/>laura has everything she ever wanted. <br/>and their kid? well, their kid gets in as much trouble as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	house of gold.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so at the moment this is kind of just a long oneshot, but depending on the response i may make it a multichapter about riley's years at silas?  
> (of course that would be very OC-centric so idk how many people would be interested in that)

“So you’re a giant black cat, huh?” 

* * *

Carmilla woke up slowly, aware of the warmth of a tiny body against hers. Arms were around her and a head was lying on her chest and she was finding it hard to breathe. Her thoughts in a panic, she shoved the person away from her and jumped into the middle of the room. 

“Ouch, Carm,” a tiny voice pierced through Carmilla’s foggy brain, and after a few deep breaths her mind cleared to see Laura sitting on the bed, looking hurt. 

“Oh, god, Laura, I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what…” 

The memories of the past few days all came rushing back to her. She had died. 

Again. 

And then she’d woken up to Laura’s smiling face, and she had to double-check that she hadn’t actually ended up in Heaven by fault of some terrible error by God. 

But it turned out to be even better than that. 

She remembered Laura staring at her defiantly, demanding that she needed to rest after literally coming back from the dead. 

Again. 

Laura taking care of her, constantly finding excuses to innocently touch her hand as if she couldn’t believe she was _really_ there. Carmilla finding she has to do the same thing. 

But for some reason, Carmilla wasn’t feeling herself getting better. In fact, she was getting worse. She couldn’t explain it, but there was a gnawing deep in her stomach. It felt like hunger, only she had been offered blood by Laura (God knows where she got it all from) and she found she had no appetite. In fact, the very sight and smell of blood made her want to vomit. Which was worrying. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Laura stood off the bed, her hair still tousled from sleep. She took Carmilla’s hand and began fiddling with her fingers. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m better than okay,” Carmilla replied, but the words came out weak and unconvincing. 

“Are you still feeling sick? You’re deathly pale,” Laura winced, “pun unintended.” 

“P _un_ -intended.” 

“Okay, even your witty comebacks are getting worse, you need to lie back down.”

Carmilla didn’t bother arguing, swaying slightly and falling back onto the bed. Somewhere deep in her mind, it registered that she was in Laura’s bed, not her own. She smiled slightly at the memory of them falling asleep pressed against each other. 

“Do you mind?” a tiny voice from behind her asked tentatively. She rolled over to see Laura standing in between the two beds. “If you want I could always sleep here,” she gestured to Carmilla’s empty bed. 

“Definitely not,” Carmilla said, “come here.” 

Laura looked relieved as she got back into bed with Carmilla. 

“Seriously, are you okay?” 

“Never better,” Carmilla lied. Despite the pains in the pit of her stomach, with Laura so close, she could almost convince herself she was telling the truth. 

* * *

It didn’t get better. 

Carmilla began to experience excruciating pains. She became thin and pale - even more than usual. Laura, worried as always, called on LaFontaine, ignoring Carmilla’s claims that she was fine. 

LaFontaine didn’t have an answer. They tried to force Carmilla to drink blood, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The very idea was repulsive. 

Then, slowly, they took a packet of cookies out of their backpack. They offered one to Laura, took one themselves, then handed the packet over to Carmilla. 

She wasn’t sure how this would help, but she took a bite. Before she knew it, the whole pack was gone. The gnawing subsided slightly.

“Just as I thought,” LaFontaine said cryptically. “Mind if I take your pulse?”

“I don’t have a pulse, dimwit,” Carmilla said and they pressed two fingers against her wrist. 

“You sure about that?” LaFontaine said, ushering Laura over and pressing her fingers where theirs had been. 

“Oh my god,” Laura whispered. 

* * *

It took a bit of getting used to. 

Carmilla found the necessity of eating tiresome. As a vampire, she’d been able to feed once every few days, but now she had to do it every few hours, which really put a dent in some of her plans. Sometimes she just forgot, and had to be reminded by Laura. 

Her sleep schedule stayed pretty much nocturnal, but she did find that she didn’t have to wrap up to go out in the sunlight. Laura took full advantage of this, dragging her for picnics in the park, or lengthy walks. She found she didn’t mind much. 

As for her mortality, Carmilla really couldn’t care less. She’d had a very long time to come to terms with never dying, and now she had to come to terms with the opposite. But every time she looked at Laura and pictured their future together, it became impossible to worry about getting older. 

It was almost as if everything became more permanent after she herself became temporary. She could look at buildings and know that they’d outlast her, instead of vice versa. 

When she had been a vampire, everything in the world was fleeting. But now it meant something. Forever meant more, somehow. 

* * *

The best answer anyone could come up with was the sword. 

It promised to consume anyone who wielded it. Kirsch suggested that maybe it consumed the vampire part of Carmilla, and Danny agreed. She said maybe it took human’s lifetimes, and since she had an infinity of them it simply took away her immortality. 

Carmilla herself was less than concerned with finding out _why_ she’d become a human. It had happened, and she just had to deal with it. There was no point in trying to work out why it was. Even if they did make a discovery, and even found out how to reverse it, Carmilla would have turned it down. 

Sure, eating was annoying. 

And she couldn’t move with the agility she used to. 

And she missed being a cat. 

But it was worth it, to know that her and Laura could promise ‘forever’ to each other, and have it mean the same thing. 

* * *

“Till death do us part.”

* * *

They bought a big house, out in the country, far away from anything that could kill them. No supernatural creatures. No questionable pie fillings. A normal life. 

Carmilla hadn’t realised how much she’d been craving that. 

Moving day was hard. It had been years, but she still wasn’t used to her human strength (or rather, lack of strength.) She got frustrated as she tried to carry a heavy box all by herself, and Laura just laughed, taking the other side. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself!” 

“I was totally managing with that!” 

“Sure.” 

Once all of the furniture and boxes were in the house, Carmilla allowed herself to simply sit on the oak floor and look around. The house was spacious and with old-Tudor-style architecture. High ceilings and wooden beams supported the ground floor. 

Huge bay windows at the front let the sun shine in. 

The sun. Carmilla had developed an affinity for it. She still burnt easily, and couldn’t stay all too long outside without some form of shade, but whenever it was sunny it made her spirits lift no matter how she was feeling. 

It was possibly because of how golden Laura’s hair looked in bright sunlight, and how her hazel eyes shone almost green, and how a beautiful smile would always spread across her face. 

While she was thinking, Laura sat down next to her and lay her head on her lap. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked as Carmilla stroked her hair. 

“Nothing. I guess I just never saw this coming. Not in three hundred and forty years did I ever expect to create a future with someone I loved as much as you.”

Laura smiled and closed her eyes, completely relaxed. 

“You know,” she said, keeping her tone casual, “this house is much too big for only two people.” 

* * *

The lady in charge of the orphanage was too nice. 

Laura, of course, got along great with her, but her sunny disposition was grating on Carmilla’s nerves. She practically sang her tour of the house, introducing kid after snot-nosed kid.

After they’d seen the whole place, she clapped her hands together. 

“So, why don’t you spend some time playing with some of the children?” 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, hoards of tiny creatures descended upon Laura and Carmilla. 

“Are you gonna adopt me?” a small boy demanded in a screeching voice.

“Oh, we’re not sure! This is just a visit, it doesn’t mean anything,” Laura said gently. Carmilla smiled. Of course she tried to let him down gently. 

“Do you wanna come to my tea party?” a girl asked, tugging on Laura’s sleeve. 

“Of course!” Laura said, allowing herself to be dragged away by a six year old. She gave an apologetic look to Carmilla, who just shrugged. She definitely didn’t mind not being invited to the tea party. 

All of the children chased after Laura, which didn’t surprise her either. She knew she didn’t exactly give off the most welcoming air to little kids. 

With nothing to do, she wandered around the house. It was practically empty. It appeared that everyone had piled into the tiny playroom to talk to Laura. They all seemed enamoured with her. 

Carmilla couldn’t blame them. 

Deciding she needed some air, Carmilla walked through to the back of the house. Two large glass doors led from the kitchen to a spacious back garden. Sitting on the steps was a girl with unruly black hair and dark skin, her nose deep in a novel.

“Hey, mind if I sit?” Carmilla asked. The girl just shrugged, and went back to her book. 

“I’m Carmilla.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“So why aren’t you in there swooning over my wife like the rest of the kids?” 

“Why aren’t you in there doting over tiny babies like your wife?” she didn’t even take her eyes off the page. 

Carmilla was silent for a while, before muttering out a ‘touché.’

They sat on the stone steps together. It was nearing evening, and the sun was just beginning to set, casting the green trees in a golden glow. Carmilla glanced over at the girl, who was still reading. Her jeans had grass-stains and holes in the knees, and her shoes were dirty and scuffed. 

“What are you reading?” she tried again. 

“The Crucible.” 

“Hey, I love that play!” Carmilla said, forgetting herself for a moment. “Wait a minute, aren’t you like seven? That book has some dark stuff in it.” 

“I’m eleven!” the girl scoffed. “I’m just short for my age! Plus, I’m totally mature enough for this!” 

Carmilla smiled, reminded of someone else who got riled up about height comments. 

“So, what are you thinking about John Proctor?” 

“I don’t like him. I know you’re meant to, but I don’t see why. He cheated on Elizabeth and now we’re meant to feel bad that he hasn’t forgiven himself? As far as I’m concerned he _should_ feel guilty.” 

“Yeah, and what should he do about Abigail?” 

“He should tell the court she’s lying!” 

“But to prove it, he’d have to admit to being a lecher. That could get him killed.” 

“Him not doing anything is leading to tons of innocent people getting killed! It’s a fair trade!” 

Carmilla smiled. When the girl began talking she flapped her hands about excitedly, still clutching to the book in one hand. 

“Maybe your opinion will change by the end. You’re still on act two, right?” 

“Yeah,” the girl said, rifling through pages. “Some of the language is weird, though. But I get that it’s an old play.” 

“It’s not as old as you think,” Carmilla offered. When the girl looked at her questioningly, she counted it as a victory. She’d gotten her invested in their conversation. “It wasn’t written in the seventeenth century. It’s from the fifties. It’s actually a big metaphor for what was going on then in the USA, but instead of witches it was Communists. Very fascinating period of history.” 

Carmilla failed to mention that she’d _experienced_ that period of history, albeit far away from the madness, all the way in Europe. 

“Communists?” 

“Yeah… I think that may be a bit too complicated to explain right now. Plus, Laura’s probably drowning in a sea of two-year-olds, so I better go help her out.” 

As Carmilla stood up, the girl closed her books. 

“Wait. I can help you. I know all the kids, it’ll be easier for me to save your wife.” 

“Good plan.” 

* * *

The woman (whose name Carmilla hadn’t deigned to remember) explained later in her office that the girl was called Riley. 

“She’s always been difficult… she believes she won’t get adopted, so she fulfils her own prophecy by avoiding all possible guardians, and being harsh. She pushes away anyone who may get close to her.” 

Carmilla nodded slightly. “Do you know why that is?”

“She had a… rough childhood,” the woman explained, her tone laced with euphemism. “She was eight when she came to the home, much older than the rest of the children. She didn’t fit in well with them, due to her social problems as well as the age difference. And I believe she thinks she’s too old to be adopted now.” 

* * *

They adopted her a month later.

* * *

Before Riley moved in, Carmilla made sure her room had a large bookshelf. She put a few of her personal favourites on it, but left most of it empty. She figured Riley could fill it with whatever she wanted once she got there. 

Laura bought her lots of new clothes, but made sure Riley was comfortable with the style. At first Riley had tried to resist, but she was also proved defenceless against Laura’s kind smile. 

They had to make sure there were no candles in the house (or anything else on fire, for that matter), and the television couldn’t be over halfway volume wise. No loud music either, or anything that could overpower Riley’s senses. They were also warned to never raise their voice when they got angry. 

They went to training courses demonstrating how to deal with reprimanding a child without yelling. Laura took to it naturally. Carmilla needed a little more time. But she was determined to get it right. 

The day Riley moved in, it was sunny outside. Carmilla asked if she wanted to play music on the car ride, but Riley shook her head. 

“Do you want us to chat, or would you rather we stayed quiet?”

“Stayed quiet.” 

Carmilla nodded, smiling at Laura. They drove for hours in the silence, until Riley piped up.

“I finished the Crucible.”

“And?”

“I still don’t like John.”

“Why not?”

“Well, everyone’s acting like he made the moral decision at the end, but it wasn’t because he thought it was the right thing to do. He was perfectly fine to lie and live until his reputation got put on the line.” 

Carmilla nodded sagely. “Very good analysis. I’m impressed.” 

When she glanced in her rearview mirror, she saw Riley grinning ear-to-ear. 

* * *

The first night Laura tucked Riley into bed and asked permission before kissing her on the forehead. They said goodnight and turned the light off, but when a small voice asked if they could keep it on Laura smiled and flicked the switch again. 

She left the room and took Carmilla’s hand. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

“I bet you never planned on this, huh?” 

“Never in a million years.” 

“Now you’re just exaggerating. I know you’re only three centuries old. You’re practically a baby!” Laura laughed softly as she led Carmilla back to their room. 

“Look who’s talking, Little Miss Twentieth Century!”

“True,” Laura smiled. “I think we did a good thing.” 

“I think we did too.” 

As Carmilla crawled into bed in her house, next to her wife, with her daughter in the next room, she allowed herself to think that maybe she’d finally got it right. 

* * *

She was woken up by a tapping on her shoulder. Slowly, Carmilla opened her eyes to see Riley standing there, looking worried. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

She shook her head. 

“Do you want us to stay up with you?”

A nod this time. 

Carmilla rolled over and woke Laura up, and the three of them headed back to Riley’s room and sat on the bed, Riley in the middle. 

“What’s up? Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“Okay…” Carmilla searched her mind for what they’d said on the course. She couldn’t remember anything. Why was she so useless at this?

“Hey, Riley, you like reading, don’t you?” Laura asked. When Riley nodded, she continued. “Well, do you know what book I love to read when I’m feeling sad or lost or a little down?”

“What?” 

“Harry Potter. Have you read it?”

“No.”

“I think you’d really like it. How about I go and get my copy and read it to you for a bit, would you like that?”

“Yeah.” 

Laura smiled and left the room. Carmilla laughed to herself, because she knew for a fact Laura had more than one copy stashed away. She also knew how true what she’d said was. She’d seen Laura reading that series with tears in her eyes far too many times for her liking. 

She walked back in, the most torn and battered copy in her hands. Carmilla recognised it as the first one Laura ever owned. 

She sat down on the bed next to Riley, and began reading. 

“Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four Privet Drive…”

* * *

“Mooooom, have you seen my English essay?!” Riley called over her shoulder as she barrelled through the kitchen, grabbing a cereal bar on the way.

“Which one?” Laura asked, turning the page of her newspaper. 

“The one about why The Great Gatsby is overrated!”

“Nope, sorry!” Laura said. She wasn’t sure why she asked, because she hadn’t seen any other essays anyway. Riley had a habit of letting her school stuff fall into an absolute mess (and then she panicked when she lost things. Shocker!)

(She got it from Carmilla.) 

“Oh my god, Mr McNiven is gonna kill me!” 

“Riley, it’s the first week of your final semester of high school, _how_ have you managed to lose your essay already?” 

“I don’t know! I guess I got sidetracked?”

Laura didn’t even take her eyes off the page. “Go ask your mother.” 

“I just _did.”_

She fixed Riley with a stare that she hoped was intimidating. 

“Your _other_ mother.” 

“Fine, jeez!” 

Riley left the kitchen, and grabbed her schoolbag from the sofa in the living room. At this rate, she’d be late to school and then she’d get detention not only for not having her essay but also for tardiness. 

“Mom!” she called up the stairs.

“What?” came the reply.

“Have you seen my essay?!”

“The one about Gatsby?” 

“Yeah!” 

“No!” 

“Dammit!” 

There was only one thing left to do. Riley walked through to the old basement door, and walked down the stairs. 

“Alright, which one of you assholes took my essay?!” 

When there was no reply, she huffed and turned on the light switch. Immediately the crowd of white figures that had been sitting in a clump dispersed, pretending like nothing had happened. 

“Oh, hey, Riley! Didn’t hear you there!” one of the figures said nervously.

“Give it a rest, Alex, I’m not here to invade on your private ghost time or whatever. I just need to know where my essay is.” 

“Well I don’t have it!” 

Riley barked out a laugh. “Like I’m going to believe that! You’re a poltergeist, your word is worth about the same as mine is when I promise my mom I’m not doing anything dangerous at the weekend.” 

“While that is _true,_ I genuinely don’t have your essay.” 

“Really? Because this essay is super important. And if I get in trouble for it, I might be so stressed that I’ll forget to keep certain secrets,” Riley said, “And it might just slip out- completely by accident of course- that you’re hiding out in this basement. And I _really_ don’t think my moms would like that, do you?”

Alex’s eyes widened in fear, before they sighed out a puff of non-existent breath. 

“Look, I seriously don’t have it. But I’ll help you look.”

* * *

“Where’s Riley?” 

“Still looking for her essay. I’m pretty sure she’s asking the ghosts downstairs.” 

“Does she still think we don’t know about them?”

“Meh, let her have her fun.” 

“Dealing with supernatural isn’t just ‘fun’, Carm! It could lead to her getting killed!” 

“Relax, I’ve been killed twice and I’m doing just fine.” 

“Carm!” 

* * *

It was sunny the day of her graduation. Riley was glad, because Laura insisted on taking like a million pictures and at least they didn’t look gloomy. 

Carmilla seemed to enjoy the sunlight anyway. When Riley was younger she’d always drag her out for walks or to play in the field next to their house. It was almost as if she was making up for lost time.

All of her mom’s friends turned up too. Uncle Kirsch cried more than anyone else, and LaFontaine cheered rowdily when Riley’s name was called and she got her diploma. 

Her friend Matt leaned over to her once they were all sitting down for the Headmaster’s speech. “Who are all those people?” 

“My parent’s friends. They’re basically my family. You know, since the only _actual_ extended family I have is my mom’s papa. But he’s here too.” She swivelled round to wave at the hulk of a man crying softly, holding her mother’s hand. 

“Your family is pretty messed up.” 

“Eh, the _tragic_ life of an _abandoned orphan!”_

Matt laughed. “Okay, you can stop milking the orphan thing. We all know you basically lucked out in the parents lottery.” 

“Yeah, I guess I did,” she smiled. 

* * *

Laura was sad, even though she wouldn’t admit it. Carmilla could tell, because she didn’t sing along to the radio on the ride home, and when they arrived back at their house she looked at it wistfully. 

“It’s okay, Laura,” Carmilla said, taking her hand as they stood outside the house. “She’s only an hour away. It’s not like she went across the country.” 

“I know,” Laura smiled sadly, “but it’s just hard to realise that the scared little kid I read Harry Potter to is now off at university.” 

“Well, some things haven’t changed. She _is_ going to study literature. Just like her mom.” 

That made Laura smile. “Yeah, that’s true. Plus, she’s going to Silas! Who wants to bet that she’ll find herself in trouble in the first week?” 

“This is _Riley_ we’re talking about. She’s probably already in trouble,” Carmilla laughed. “The real question is, will she find the love of her life like I did?” 

 

 

 

 


End file.
